<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Tales From the Vienna Woods - Op. 325 by newyorkminute</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375628">Tales From the Vienna Woods - Op. 325</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/newyorkminute/pseuds/newyorkminute'>newyorkminute</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Falsettos - Lapine/Finn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Self-Indulgent, can be read as canon compliant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:15:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/newyorkminute/pseuds/newyorkminute</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A random Friday morning with Marvin Cohen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Whizzer Brown/Marvin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tales From the Vienna Woods - Op. 325</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Lol hi. This has officially become a Clingy Whizzer™ fan account. I'm not sorry about it. He loves touch and being held. Don't fight me on this.</p><p>Also here's the song if you're interested. It's super cute.</p><p>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DE396RYk4k0</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>5:45 am in early February was never a welcome sight and the warm glow of the bedside lamp wasn't fooling him, he could already feel the chill through his pyjama shirt. Marvin stared blankly at the bed sheets as he let his eyes adjust to the light that now flooded the room and reached for his glasses. He sat for a minute longer listening to the rain hammering against the window and sighed. The report said it was supposed to snow. Reluctantly pushing the covers back and swinging his feet onto the ground, Marvin decided to embrace the cold air and willed himself to resist the coziness radiating from the bed behind him. Finally finding the resolve to get up, he raced over to the closet and tugged on his fluffiest bathrobe. There was probably no need to wake up so early for work but he enjoyed the slow and easy mornings he got to have when he did. He was in the midst of tying the belt tight around his waist when a soft, low murmur split through the sound of the pouring rain:</p><p>"Can you get me my socks, please?"</p><p>Marvin knew Whizzer was a light sleeper but damn, he thought he'd been more gentle when leaving the bed this time. He always felt awful when he would accidentally wake Whizzer in his haste to beat the cold. He walked over to his lover's side of the bed to lift the balled up pair of socks from the floor and place them next to Whizzer's forearm under the covers.</p><p>"Anything for you, princess," he purred, teasingly, and pressed a kiss to the man's temple before leaving the room.</p><p>The rest of the apartment was considerably cooler than the bedroom, thus causing Marvin to stuff his hands into the large pockets of his robe as he walked through the darkness. Upon reaching the kitchen, he grimaced at the brighter light and set about making his breakfast. Every sound was muffled and his eyes still weren't seeing clearly, it was as if his eyes and ears were still asleep. Marvin was pinning the blame on the fact that he's never been a morning person. Or maybe he's just old. While waiting for the bread to toast, Marvin grabbed his issue of last month's National Geographic from the coffee table in the living room. He was half way through reading it when it mysteriously disappeared into Jason's room 5 weeks ago.</p><p>A mug of coffee in each hand and a plate balanced precariously on top of one, Marvin carefully made his way back to the bedroom. After entering the room he notes that Whizzer must have gotten up to push the curtains open before curling back under the heavy duvet. He places Whizzer's mug of coffee down on the bedside table and let's him know it's there. Marvin makes his way over to the record player as Whizzer hums a thank you and stretches, making an unholy noise as he does so. Marvin let's a smile spread across his face and wishes he didn't have his back to him. It's maybe a little weird but he loves watching Whizzer stretch. He loves the way his face adorably scrunches up, the way his long limbs reach in the effort to loosen up his muscles, the way his body relaxes and settles back down once he's satisfied.</p><p>“Sounds like you needed that.” Marvin joked, with a fondness in his voice that the Whizzer of two years ago would have sneered at. Present Whizzer, however, chuckles groggily and agrees.</p><p>Marvin starts up the turntable and places the needle at the very beginning of his favorite <em>Best of Johann Strauss </em>vinyl. He listens to this record every time he wakes on a morning like this and never tires of it. It's exactly half an hour in length so is the perfect way for Marvin to keep an eye on the time without constantly checking his alarm clock. He made his way over to the bed as the first song began: <em>Tales From the Vienna Woods</em>, a cello now steadily accompanying the rain still pounding off of the window. Settling himself on top of the duvet (he's not sure he'd be able to get back up if he went under them) with his coffee and toast, he pulled the magazine out from his pocket and flattened it back out. After placing his mug down on the bedside table, Whizzer winds his arms around Marvin's bicep and squishes his cheek on the latter's shoulder as the older man flips through his magazine to the page he had dog-eared before it was <em>ruthlessly</em> stolen.</p><p>Reading through the article, Marvin once again let a small smile grace his features when the music progressed from a flute to a zither. The sound of the instrument always makes him laugh. Maybe in his (non-professional) professional opinion it sounds out of place or maybe it's just personal preference. It's Whizzer's favorite song of his classics collection. Even though the younger man isn't that much of a classical fan he'll happily sit with Marvin when the records are playing, humming along with the ones he likes. There is currently no sound coming from the man next him other than steady, even breathing so Marvin knows that he's dozed off again. Marvin doesn't know why Whizzer bothers drinking coffee in the morning anymore, it doesn't seem to do anything apart from make him more tired. It's probably just part of the routine now.</p><p>Marvin halts his reading to take a few bites of his toast and watch the rain fall against the glass. Just thinking about stepping out into that horrific downpour nearly has him bursting into tears; he briefly considers calling in sick. Today won't be so bad though, he supposes. It's Friday which means Jason is coming over for the weekend and West Side Story is on the TV tonight. Marvin was about to take a sip of his coffee when a swell in the music causes Whizzer to jolt slightly as it wakes him. The young man sighed.</p><p>“That's not very good music to sleep to.”</p><p>Marvin exhaled a laugh, “You're not supposed to sleep to it. It's a waltz. You're meant to dance to it.”</p><p>“I know. Remember when you dipped me and hit my head off the kitchen counter?”</p><p>Sucking a breath through his teeth at the memory, “Yeah. But, in my defense, the dippee isn't supposed to dip that low in a waltz.”</p><p>“You were leading.” Whizzer sluggishly argues and reaches over to steal a slice of Marvin's toast.</p><p>“It's not my fault that you're a show-off.”</p><p>Whizzer gives him a tired look, but a small smile quickly takes it's place, “No, I mean if you knew you were gonna dip me then move away from the counter, dumb-ass.” After taking another bite he puts the toast back on the plate and sinks back down into the pillows, pulling the covers to his chin as best he can with Marvin sitting on them. He giggles as Marvin concedes and goes back to reading. </p><p>The room is finally starting to heat up now so it hopefully won't be so hard for Marvin to leave their little pocket of bliss. A few light bangs and thumps can be heard through the wall behind his head; Charlotte must be awake now. He refrains from knocking on the wall to greet her this time as he's pretty sure she just left the room and he wouldn't want to risk accidentally waking Cordelia (again). The last time that happened, Cordelia had retaliated with some of the spiciest chocolate chip cookies anyone could have the misfortune to taste. Marvin scowls at the memory as he continues to munch on his toast. He was beginning to realize now that two slices weren't going to be enough and he'll have to pick something up on the way to work. Would it be considered sad just how excited Marvin was starting to feel at the idea of getting a pastry to eat at his desk? Maybe.</p><p>There was a time in which he despised the mundanity of his life. In hindsight, he can see how his unhappiness oozed it's way through his family. Every action, every detail, becoming so tedious as he forced himself to come home to a wife he didn't truly love and a son he didn't understand. Now, however, he savors the mundane, adores it even: Trina's steady knock on his door every Sunday, Mendel's awkward smile and wave as he stands beside her; Charlotte and Cordelia's whispered conversations during movies; his son yelling 'Goodnight'; Whizzer asking him to <em>at least </em>try<em> and match the socks together</em> <em>when</em><em> you </em><em>do the laundry</em><em>, Marvin</em>. Every action, every detail, now filling his life with so much warmth as he spends his days with a family he loves and a life he never thought he could have.</p><p>He feels that same warmth bloom in his chest when Whizzer sits up to take a sip of his coffee again and, instead of laying down and going back to sleep, leans toward Marvin to take a look at his magazine. “Whatcha reading about?”</p><p>In lieu of responding verbally, Marvin quickly closes the magazine over to show Whizzer the front cover. The latter cooed at the image of a Giant Panda, the star of this particular issue.</p><p>“They are so cute.”</p><p>“Yes, very cute. And, did you know, they have a weird sort of pseudo-thumb? It's an extended bone in their wrist that helps them grip things.”</p><p>Whizzer hummed. “That's cool… but why not just call it a thumb then if it does the same thing?”</p><p>“Because it's not the same bones or something. I'm not really sure.”</p><p>“Hm. I would just call it a thumb.”</p><p>They bask in the lilting sound of the orchestra until Marvin starts to notice the restless movement of the man next to him: constantly switching between resting his head or his chin on the older man's shoulder and occasionally glancing up in an attempt to catch his eye. Marvin was impressed, Whizzer let him read for a whole six minutes this morning. That's a new record! Marvin removes his glasses before closing the magazine and throwing it on the carpet. He slides down slightly and opens his arms, inviting Whizzer forward with a smile and a soft 'c'mere'. The taller man grins and pulls his legs out from under the covers to roll himself on top of Marvin. He wraps his arms around his torso and settles himself against Marvin's chest.</p><p>This was another change that Marvin is increasingly thankful for, Whizzer's new found affinity for affection. Well... maybe not new. There were glimmers of it the first time, when things between them were good. He'd allow Marvin to run his hands through his hair (sexual intent be damned) and dot a chaste kiss on his cheek when he left for work. Or in moments like these, early in the morning, when Whizzer wasn't fully aware of just how snugly he'd wrapped himself in Marvin's arms. 
Whizzer had explained, on their eighth date after reconnecting at Jason's baseball game, exactly why he'd held back on giving Marvin the affection he craved and apologized for the mental turmoil he'd put him through. He promised that he would be better this time since he could see that Marvin had changed, and the thought of being vulnerable around him wasn't so scary anymore. Marvin tightens his hold on him and runs his hands lazily along his lover's back.</p><p>The only problem Marvin has now, if you can really call it that, is keeping Whizzer off of him. He'd thought Whizzer was joking when he warned him to be careful what he wished for after they'd agreed to be more affectionate. He'd thought he was being sarcastic when he said that he'd driven boyfriends off with the enthusiasm with which he cuddled. There's rarely a time that you'll see Marvin without Whizzer plastered to his side with his arm around his shoulder. Never in the evening will Marvin be able to read or watch TV without Whizzer's warm, lanky body draped over his lap like a blanket. And, God forbid, Marvin forgets to entwine their hands as he rocks into Whizzer when the tenderness moves somewhere a little more intimate. It's everything Marvin could have wanted.</p><p>“Call in sick.” Whizzer mumbles with a pout, lifting his head to look at the other man. <em>Don't tempt me</em>, Marvin thinks. He removes a hand from Whizzer's back and instead pokes at his bottom lip, stroking his thumb across and lightly tugging down on it. Whizzer's lips were basically made for pouting; his puppy-dog eyes are unrivaled in their effectiveness.</p><p>“Cut it out, kid, you know I can't.”</p><p>Whizzer rolls his eyes and drops his head into the crook of Marvin's neck, “Stop calling me that.”</p><p>“I thought you liked it. It makes you seem young.”</p><p>“Yeah but you also call your kid that,” Whizzer chuckles as he continues speaking, “and I wanna be special.”</p><p>Marvin laughs, “Fine. I can't call in sick today, <em>babe</em>. Better? Now shut up. I don't have long.”</p><p>Whizzer smiles before closing his eyes and nuzzles in closer. Marvin gently fluffs Whizzer's hair and twirls the soft strands around his finger. The comforting feel of his pliant boyfriend pressed against him, rhythmic puffs of air tickling the base of his neck, has him struggling to ward off sleep. Naturally, the rise and fall of their chests synchronize and Marvin can feel his eyes begin to droop. The heat of the warming room and enticing pull of the snug bed are definitely not his allies in this fight.</p><p>As the song ends, Marvin reaches for his coffee willing the caffeine to clear the fog in his head. He resigns himself to his thoughts as the next track starts.</p><p>**</p><p>Sadly. Regrettably. The record had played through every track and Marvin groaned at the thought of getting up. It took five minutes to wrestle Whizzer off of him (the younger man did his very best to make it as difficult as possible) and another five to finally pick out a shirt and tie combination that the other man approved of.</p><p>Marvin emerged from the bathroom showered, fully dressed, teeth brushed and feeling like a man reborn. Ready to face the day. He re-entered the bedroom to grab his scarf and take a look out of the window. The rain had refused to let up even a tiny bit and continues it's assault on the Earth below. The sky had transformed from an angry, intimidating shade of purple to a colder, uninviting gray. There's enough light coming through now to engulf the room in a dreary blue haze and he wallows in it after switching the bedside lamp off, trying to delay the inevitable. He turns to the bed and finds that Whizzer has his back to him, obviously still pissed that Marvin had chosen work over cuddling in bed with him.</p><p>“Any chance of a parting kiss, my love?” Teasing Whizzer with that voice he hates. The older man is met with a sigh and a mumbled, “Only if you come over here.”</p><p>So Marvin goes. Once he reaches the other side of the bed, Whizzer at least has the good grace to push up onto his elbow and meet him halfway. The kiss is sweet and lasts longer than Marvin has time for, as the pair savor the last chance they'll have alone for the whole weekend. The moment ends when Whizzer drops back down onto the pillows and reminds Marvin to take an umbrella. Helpful advice that Marvin acknowledged but will kindly ignore; his parka has a perfectly good hood after all. After pulling on the aforementioned jacket and his shoes, he slings his bag over his shoulder and shouts through to the bedroom:</p><p>“See you tonight, Whiz. I love you,” and he waits for Whizzer's dozy reply before opening the door.</p><p>With his lover's voice fresh in his head and <em>just</em> enough time to stop off at the world's best bagel shop, Marvin Cohen's day could not be off to a better start.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I promise I'm not pretentious I just heard this song and the thought immediately popped into my head</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>